Curtain Call
by pinfeather
Summary: Everyone thought Doom was done with villainy... but he still has one last card up his sleeve.
1. Chapter 1: In Which Doom is Blue

For Victor von Doom, the world officially ended the day that Valeria died.

From then on, something was missing from his incessant attacks on the Fantastic Four. Something – somehow – perhaps it was the flourish with which he christened his latest Laser-Attack-Bot. Perhaps it was the flair with which he set into motion the final phase of Project Total Annihilation B, or the finesse with which he delivered the always-essential Villainous Monologue.

Perhaps it was simply that, when he stepped away from his throne – a rare occurrence, nowadays – and stood in front of the big bay window, and looked out over his kingdom . . . there was no one standing beside him.

It had been years, decades, since Doom had last stood against the Fantastic Four. Of course, he had made time to send off the occasional Sudden Robot Attack. Just to let them know that he was thinking of them . . . you know? And, every now and again, he arranged for some manner of demon to jump out and grab one of the various little Richards or Grimm children.

But he had more important things to think of now.

a) His robots.

b) The Ruling of Latveria – Valeria had been the perfect queen, always tending to the citizens when Doom was busy in the lab. She'd been one of them. And they loved her for it.

c) His lab.

d) His robots.

e) His children.

He was coming close to striking E off the list.

Victoria, his firstborn – Valeria's firstborn – had left who-knows-how-long ago. He'd last heard from her two months ago, when he launched a Nuclear First-Strike against this idiotic punk, Justin something, whom she'd been dating at the time. Vikki had taken over the Mole Man's domain, was leading a Massive Minion Horde Attack against Quebec, and had pierced her nose.

She called herself Ruin.

Kristoff, the younger, didn't really seem to do much in the way of Villainous Deeds. Occasionally his footsteps were still heard in the grand halls of Castle Doom, or his cloak would be seen hanging on the rack outside the lab. But those occasions were far and few between now. He attended college somewhere in America, at least right now. He was something of a wanderer.

Doom would not visit Kristoff, or check up on his Possibly Traitorous Romantic Interests. Kristoff had inherited Valeria's eyes and hair and face and quiet demeanor, and it made Doom's head ache to look upon him.

So, instead of associating with his children, Doom spent his time in the lab.

He had one last project he wanted to finish.


	2. Chapter 2: Vernard

Doom sat on his throne, turning a picture over and over in his armored hands. It was of himself, trapped between Ben Grimm and Reed Richards, on graduation day.

Richards and his various cronies – Ben Grimm, Alyssa Moy – had decided to run around taking (shudder) Pictures. And, as always, they succeeded. Even if Victor had succeeded in partially shielding his face from the flash in this particular photo, they had several billion others, which would go on to fuel the formation of thousands of scrapbooks.

In years past, he would have tired of looking at the photo, and hurled it at the wall. Its cracked and battered frame bore mute witness to this fact.

However, now, he simply dropped it next to his throne. It clattered on the tiled floor, and he leaned back in his throne and sighed.

"Master?"

He sat up again, quickly. It was Vernard.

"Master, I've arrived."

"Vernard, my apprentice." Doom stood up and straightened his cloak. "We have much to do today."

Vernard was a scrawny youth, not much to look upon, but he was gifted with a mind that rivaled Reed Richards'.

"Will we be working on the Hypno-Television Set today, sire?" Vernard asked respectfully, with a slight bow. Since coming into Doom's service, he had begun wearing the traditional clothing of the household – muted greens and grays, with bits of metal armor here and there.

"Not today, Vernard." Doom turned to glance out the big bay window, over the rooftops of Doomstadt, before he walked down the dais towards his apprentice. "Actually, I believe it's time to move on to a different lesson."

Vernard seemed puzzled, but nodded. "As you wish, master."

"Come – let us go to the lab." Doom shuffled down the hall, leaning on his metal staff most of the time. The staff used to come in handy mostly for shooting high-intensity beams of Death Lasers, but now he usually just used it for balance.

Vernard followed meekly, his soft shoes whispering on the tiles. The old Doombots stood in line, powered off and frozen in a silent march, forever. He passed them one by one, a little nervously, glancing warily at their dark eye sockets, as if they might spring to life and grab him at any moment.

He followed his master down a dark stairwell. Around them, various scanners in the walls flashed recognition. Door after door parted at the sound of Doom's staff striking the floor.

Finally, they reached a wall at which no door opened. The floor shuddered.

"I don't believe we've been here before, master," Vernard said.

"Steel yourself," Doom said, and pressed a button.

The floor shuddered and began to sink beneath them. They were slowly lowered through the floor, on a broad, circular platform.

Doom watched Vernard's awed face, and smirked to himself.

The room they arrived in was bare, but filled with light—and diagrams. Diagrams everywhere, chalked up all over the walls and floors.

"What is this place?" Vernard murmured.

Doom held a finger in front of his mouth, motioning for him to be quiet. They stepped off the platform and it rose silently upward again.

The old man pressed a button on the side of his staff. A soft, metallic hum filled the air.

"_Now _we can speak safely," Doom said, over the sound.

"Master?"

"Look around. Tell me what you see. Tell me what you read."

Vernard obediently looked around, trying to read the scattered words and numbers scribbled everywhere.

"I . . . I see many names."

"Here." Doom jabbed at one name, written in bold blue ink. "Susan Richards."

"And there are many names, with arrows drawn to connect them." Vernard turned around and around. "It's like a web. And . . . there's Jonathan Storm's name. And Lyja Storm. And the Skrull Empress. And the Mole Man."

"And the Richards' cousins in Scotland," Doom continued, pointing out some more names. "The Sub-Mariner, and his people. Benjamin Grimm's aunt. The man who sells pretzels in the lobby of the Baxter Building . . ."

"What is this place, master?"

Doom leaned heavily on his staff. "Do you see Reed Richards' name, Vernard?"

"Yes, master." It was impossible to miss. The name took up half the far wall.

"His grandson was born last night."

"I was unaware of that, master."

"All these people," Doom said, with a wave of his hand, "are somehow inextricably bound into the lives of the Fantastic Four."

"I can see that, master." Vernard knelt and placed a finger on the name _Nathaniel Richards_.

"I need you to build me an army, Vernard."

The young man looked up. "What are you planning, master?"

"Oh . . . just a farewell."

"I don't know what you mean, master."

"And that is the way it must be, for now."

* * *

**Please post reviews! I need to know if this story is interesting and coherent.**


	3. Chapter 3: A Quick Dip into Genealogy

Nathaniel Richards was a brilliant scientist. Some time after his wife died, he left all his money to his only son – Reed Richards – and prepared to test his newly created Time Machine (Quintessential to All Future Retcons).

He was not seen again. Not for a while, at least.

Reed Richards was a brilliant scientist. His dream was to travel into space. He got his wish. He also gained the super-power to be Really Stretchy, and started a team of super-heroes.

Franklin Richards was not a scientist. And although he was quite bright, never did he make the Top 10 List of Smartest Men-I-Mean-People of All Time. He was Reed's firstborn son, and he was a mutant with psychic powers.

David Richards was Franklin's newborn son. As of yet, his life was not long enough or exciting enough to merit a biography here.

Currently, little David was sitting in his Aunt Val's arms like a big pink raisin.

"Awww," Val cooed. "He's so CUTE."

David's mother, Rachel, smiled proudly from her hospital bed.

Val, Franklin's younger sister, looked exactly like her mother, the Invisible Woman. She also had her mother's powers. However, she was following in her father's footsteps, as a scientist.

"Do you think he has your powers?" Val asked, gently touching the tip of David's tiny nose. "Who's gonna grow up to be psychic just like his mommy and daddy? Yes, you are! You are!"

"There's really no way of telling, yet," Rachel said, shrugging. "Franklin can't usually see that far into the future."

"Um, hello? I'm having a moment." Val rocked her nephew back and forth. "I'm an aunt! This is awesome!"

She was still rocking Baby David back and forth when she started to realize that Rachel was watching her fixedly.

"What?" she asked, warily. "Are you reading my mind? You'd better not be reading my mind."

"No, of course not," Rachel soothed. "I was just thinking."

Val snorted. "Of course. The current host for the Phoenix Force was . . . THINKING."

"Would you protect David with your life?" Rachel asked suddenly.

"Of course!" Starting to feel upset, Val hid her feelings as best she could and tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder. She bent over David and nuzzled his tiny face. "I'd do anything for my favorite nephew."

"He's your ONLY nephew," Rachel said, laughing.

But she only laughed once. Then she was quiet, gazing on the face of her firstborn son, as if afraid that she would only have one chance to do so.


	4. Chapter 4: Back on Track

**A brief explanation: In the comic book universe, Doctor Doom once adopted a small boy named Kristoff Vernard. In my story, Kristoff Vernard does not exist. However, Doom's son is named Kristoff, and his apprentice is named Vernard.**

**Just go with it.**

* * *

Vernard stopped behind of the fifty-first Doombot and unscrewed a hidden panel in its back. With a skill born of hours of practice, he began to fiddle around inside it, pressing the buttons that would bring the robot back to life and back into Doom's army.

He froze when he heard footsteps.

"Father?" Kristoff von Doom called, somewhere farther up the gallery.

Cursing softly to himself, Vernard pushed his tools back into his pockets, slid the panel back into place, and went scampering up the wide stairs.

Behind him, the Doombot's eyes began to glow softly.

Kristoff was standing next to the throne, looking curiously out of the big bay window, when Vernard reached him.

"Your highness," Vernard stammered.

"Does he see nothing from this window?" Kristoff asked softly.

"Your highness?"

"Where is my father, Vernard?" Kristoff turned and glared at him with eyes so dark they were almost black.

Vernard gulped.

"In the lab," Kristoff muttered. "Of course, he's in the lab again."

His expensive shoes clattered on the steps, and he was off down the gallery. Vernard went scurrying after him.

"I'm not sure he wants to be disturbed, your hi—"

Kristoff stopped in front of the Doombot with the glowing eyes. Angrily, he tore aside the panel in its back, and looked in on the tangled wires.

He turned and stared at Vernard – at Vernard's rolled-up sleeves and oil-blackened hands.

"So this is what he's been doing," Kristoff said, sighing.

He took off again.

The fortress's various defenses let Kristoff pass unmolested. Only at one point, just before the lab, did a network of Death Lasers spring up before him, spinning in a perilous dance. He glanced at it once and then picked his way through, gracefully avoiding every shaft of light.

Vernard stared after him, his jaw dropping. He gingerly stuck out his foot, as if to follow it back. He yanked it back seconds before a Death Laser went sweeping past. It could have chopped off his foot.

He ran for the Secret Control Panel.

Kristoff continued down into the lab. Finally he found the room full of names, and in the middle of it, his father.

Doom stood almost motionless, leaning on his staff and staring at the ceiling.

"They all connect," he mumbled. "It's all so easy . . ."

"Father!" Kristoff snapped.

Doom spun around to look at him. "Kristoff. My son."

"Yes, it's I." Kristoff spread his hands helplessly and looked around at the room. "What . . . are you DOING? All these names? And I found Vernard upstairs, reactivating the Doombots! You promised me you were done with this!"

"How has it been with you, Kristoff?" Doom asked, staring off into the distance. "Have you set any Plots of Mass Destruction into motion lately? Lured any Idealistic Young Heroes into a Death Trap?"

"Actually, I've been trying to learn more about Latveria. Latveria, as in the country our family is responsible for!"

Kristoff paused, waiting for his words to sink in. Doom showed no response.

"Father, listen to me. You're neglecting your people. Things are . . . tense . . . out there. They need to know that you remember them. And, ehhh . . . so does Vikki."

"Your sister," Doom said in a monotone. "Ah, yes. I believe she's called Ruin now."

"All she's trying to do is get your attention, Father," Kristoff said, resting his head in his hands. "And what are you doing? This all looks like some . . . some sort of Regurgitated Plot of Clichéd Vengeance."

"No," said Doom. "It's a curtain call."


	5. Chapter 5: A What!

"A what?" Kristoff couldn't believe his ears.

"A curtain call," Doom repeated. "A final farewell. It is time for this to end."

Vernard dragged himself in. "I'm back! I turned off the Death Lasers! The button was stuck."

Neither of them so much as glanced at him. He grimaced.

"Father, this should have ended years ago," Kristoff said. "Look at the Puppet Master. Happily living with his grandchildren, the Grimms . . ." He winced. "All right, perhaps that's not the best example. Look at Annihilus. He's gone back to the Negative Zone. The Frightful Four broke up years ago."

Doom snorted. "None of them are REAL villains. None of them had the experience, the commitment—the POWER!—to last all these years!"

"Ummm," said Vernard.

"Do you remember how Mother died?" Kristoff raged.

Doom pointed his staff at him. It began to glow dangerously.

Kristoff lowered his voice, but went on. "I was a mere infant when it happened. You saved the Richards' daughter's life. You could have stopped there. You proved your superiority over the Fantastic Four once and for all. Wasn't that all it was ever about? Superiority?"

"No," said Doom. His staff wavered. "It was about . . . about . . ."

"About what, Father?" Kristoff asked gently.

"Well-l-l," said Doom hesitatingly.

"Was it because you blamed Richards for scarring your face?"

"That was part of it, but . . ."

"Or—" Kristoff bit his lip. "Or was it simply that fighting Richards was all you knew how to do? You were enemies in youth, and you forgot how to be anything other than enemies. If you had not fought him, you would not have known what else to do – is that it?"

"No!" Doom roared. "I fought him because he is arrogant, and must be brought down! I am better than he is!"

"Yes, quite," Vernard said, a little too dryly to be sincere.

"Silence, Vernard," Kristoff snapped. He stepped up to his father, placing his hands on his shoulders. Age had shrunken Doctor Doom, making him shorter, for once, than his powerful young son.

"Father, please . . . I know what you're doing. You tried this plan with Valeria Richards, and you're going to try it with David Richards."

Doom reared back.

"Exactly!" roared he. "Except that this time, it will WORK!"

"Do you not understand me, Father?" yelled Kristoff. "It will NOT work! Once, you were the Fantastic Four's strongest adversary. I admired that about you! Now you're just a tired old man—"

Doom screamed, a wordless noise, and raised his staff. A light shot out of the end, towards Kristoff.

At the last second, Kristoff reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a TV remote – a Stealth TelePorter of Evil 5000©. He pushed a button, and with a *blip* he disappeared – moments before the beam of light could pass through him.

Vernard coughed awkwardly. "So, ah . . . shall I continue awakening the Doombots, master?"

Doom's shrunken shoulders slumped.

"No," he said brokenly.

"Master?"

"It is—it is time for Phase Two."


	6. Chapter 6: Phase Two

Rachel was asleep, and David slumbered next to her in his bassinet. Val gathered her things into her purse, preparing to leave.

She froze as light filled the darkened hospital room. A moment later, Kristoff von Doom was standing next to her. He reached out and snagged her elbow.

"How dare you!" She wrenched away from him and, reaching out, shaped a force field around him.

He pressed his hands against the force field, trying to find some means of escape.

"Listen!" he said in a muffled voice.

"You get out of this room, right now!" she shrieked.

"My father is about to do something terrible to that infant," he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. His voice sounded thin and tinny inside the force field.

"You mean—THAT infant?" Val pointed to sleeping David. "That infant, as in, my NEPHEW?"

"Yes!"

Rachel rolled over, sighing, in her sleep.

"I don't trust you," Val hissed at her prisoner.

"I don't trust you either," he said, "and I plan to sabotage all of your machinery at the first opportunity, but I will NOT let him pursue this plot."

Val swallowed.

Rachel sat up groggily. "What's going on?"

"Your psychics cannot read my mind," Kristoff said quickly to Val. "Nor can they use their powers to discover my father's plan."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Val said, brushing past Rachel's bed and bundling Baby David into her arms. "You have Special Telepathy-Blocking Inventions. We know."

"You must listen to me," he said, a desperate edge in his voice.

"What is HE doing here?" Rachel asked, seizing Val's arm and pointing at Kristoff.

"There is no time!" Kristoff wailed.

That was when a Doombot appeared in the room with a soft *pop*. It grabbed Val by the shoulders and dragged her towards it, baby and all. She involuntarily dropped the force field that was holding Kristoff. He had been leaning with all his might on it, and with it gone, he sprawled on his face on the carpet.

Rachel leaped up in bed, hospital gown flapping. Her scarlet hair and green eyes began to flicker with flame as her hands, gleaming with power, rose above her head.

The Doombot gathered Val and David into its arms, and, before Val could summon a force field, vanished again.

A stream of fire left Rachel's hands and slammed into the opposite wall. A second earlier, it would have decapitated the Doombot, but now it just tore a hole through to the room opposite.

Kristoff groaned.

Rachel poured all her pain, all the pain of a mother who has just lost her child, into a single telepathic shriek.

Everyone in a five-mile radius woke up screaming.


	7. Chapter 7: Fantastic Four and XMen

**Okay. This was originally going to be my shortest chapter, but then I realized that I had given little or no screentime to Ben's and Johnny's kids. And you know, if you're going to do a fanfic about the future of the Fantastic Four, you're going to have to address EVERYONE's future.**

**Now, there are going to be a lot of characters in this chapter: the entire Fantastic Four, and also the X-Men, because Rachel, Franklin's wife, is an X-Woman or X-Girl or whatever they call the female members of the team.**

**Johnny is married to Lyja the Skrull in this story. You can Google her on your own time. They have an adult son named Torus, who has both their powers, just like in MC2. Torus has nothing to do with the character in MC2, however. They just happen to share parents and name and powers. This is because I got lazy on Christening Day.**

**Now, here's the complicated part. For some reason—possibly because I am TOTALLY INSANE—I decided that Ben Grimm and Alicia Masters would have five kids.**

**FIVE.**

**Alyce and Jacob, 26, are twins. Alyce has energy powers. Jacob has the Thing's powers.**

**Danny and Jeremy, 19, are also twins. Danny has energy powers. Jeremy has the Thing's powers.**

**Yancy, 13, has the Thing's powers.**

**Alyce and Jacob, like Torus, are named after characters from MC2. Danny and Yancy are named after characters from Fantastic Four: The End.**

**Got that? If not, go back over it again.**

**Now, if you think you understand exactly where everyone stands and who's related to who, then go ahead and read the chapter.**

"Aaaaaahhhhhh!"

Jacob Grimm crashed out of bed onto the floor, landing on his head, which was already throbbing.

"Agh," said Jeremy, from across the room. "Ow. My head. Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow."

"The pain," groaned Danny.

The room – one of the largest in the Baxter Building – was set up with two beds lying along one wall and another in the corner. The rest of the room was filled with workout equipment, painting tools, and sculpting tools. There was also a large TV, but it was partially smashed. Through the window, one could see that it was still night.

Two of the beds—Jeremy's and Jacob's—were apparently built for giant orange rock monsters. Apparently, because Jeremy and Jacob were giant orange rock monsters, and because the beds had not broken yet.

Danny Grimm's bed was flimsier – normal. Unlike his brothers, he had somehow ended up with the mutant gene that let him generate plasma.

Jacob knelt on the floor, rubbing his rocky orange head gingerly. "That felt like Rachel."

"Think she had a nightmare?" suggested Jeremy. "Franklin used to do that _allll_ the time. Remember when—"

"Yes," said Danny and Jacob together.

"Ah, I'm going back to sleep," Jeremy said, rolling over and pulling the covers over his head.

The door swung open and bounced against the opposite wall. The Invisible Woman – otherwise known as Sue Richards – leaned in, her face pinched with worry.

"Were you screaming?" Sue Richards asked.

"Yeah, we think Rachel had a nightmare."

Sue took a deep breath and pushed her graying hair behind her ear. "It may have been more serious than that."

Alyce Grimm appeared behind her. Her dark hair stuck up in wet spikes. "You three better get dressed."

Alyce had the same mutant powers as Danny. Mr. Fantastic had run various tests, trying to figure out where these powers had originated. He'd finally given up in disgust, deciding that if Franklin—the son of a stretchy man and an invisible woman—could have psychic powers, two of the Thing's children could certainly have the power to generate explosive plasma.

"It's six o'clock already!" Yancy, the youngest Grimm, shrieked from one of the other rooms. She was probably already bouncing off the walls—a thirteen-year-old girl with the Thing's powers and a permanent caffeine high.

"No," said Jeremy. "'M sleeping."

Jacob placed one huge foot against the frame of Jeremy's bed and pushed. The whole structure went down with a screech.

"JAAA-COB!"

"We'll be right with you, ladies."

"THIS IS WAR!"

-x-

"This is war," said Cyclops bitterly. He sat at the Fantastic Four's kitchen table, his visor glowing with rage. His wife, Jean Grey, laid a hand on one of his clenched fists.

A stack of pancakes sat untouched and cooling at the head of the table.

"Why Doom? Why now?" Reed Richards had his head in his hands. "I thought he was done."

"He's nuts," the Thing said philosophically, leaning on the kitchen counter. He glanced down at the spots of batter on his chef's apron, then at the pan on the oven, then at the abandoned pancakes on the table. He looked at his wife, Alicia, helplessly.

No one in the wide kitchen seemed to feel like eating, not even the usually ravenous Grimms. The X-Men—Cyclops, Jean Grey, Storm, Wolverine, and others—sat along one side of the long table; most of the Fantastic Four sat along the other.

"Where're the Storms?" Wolverine asked abruptly.

"Just got back from the Intergalactic Convocation!" called the Human Torch, bursting in. "Anyone miss me?"

He stopped when he saw their blank stares.

"Oh . . . kay. What's wrong now?"

His wife Lyja struggled in behind him, all four arms straining under a huge leather suitcase. (Normally she was limited to two arms, but then again, she was a Skrull – a shape-shifting alien.) "John, _dear_ . . . We're trying to unload the ship. Would you mind—"

Sue took a deep breath. "Val and David are gone."

"That's terrible!" John said instinctively.

"Who's David?" asked Lyja.

"Franklin and Rachel's baby," Cyclops said. "My grandson."

"She had the baby?" Lyja gasped. "Oh, no, and we weren't here!"

"Okay. Where did Val and David go?" John asked.

"Doom kidnapped them with a teleporting robot."

A long pause.

"We're back!" Torus Storm, age 25, stumbled in. His face was hidden behind three huge suitcases. "Who missed me?"

Reed took a deep breath. "All right. We're going to confront Doom."

"We'll get everybody," Cyclops said. "The Avengers! Uh . . ."

"I'm sure the Empress could send a squadron to help," Lyja said eagerly.

"Um, hello?" Torus asked, muffled.

"Atlantis," suggested Sue.

"Guys? What's going—"

"The Inhumans!" John said.

"The pretzel guy in the lobby," Jeremy said abruptly, shoving Torus out of the way as he came in. Torus dropped the suitcases with a thud.

"The pretzel guy might be a little bit much," Sue mumbled.

Torus watched Jeremy intently. Jeremy walked over to the counter and began to pull out a stool. Torus's hand burst into flames and lengthened into a tentacle, reaching for the leg of the stool, slowly, slowly, as Jeremy began to sit down . . .

"Torus, cut that out," said Franklin, appearing in the doorway.

Everyone went deathly silent, watching him. Here was David's father, Val's sister. Here was one of the best non-Phoenix psychics since Professor Xavier. Surely he'd know what to—

"No, I don't know what to do." Franklin leaned against the wall, rubbing his forehead. "Every instinct is telling me that this is a trap."

"How's Rachel?" Jean asked gently.

"Not good. I think the Phoenix could take control, and we all know how that can turn out." The Phoenix was an other-dimensional force, a being of fire and passion, which Rachel was currently hosting.

"So it's a trap," Reed said.

"It's definitely a trap. Kristoff even confirmed it," Franklin said bitterly.

"What should we do?" asked Lyja.

Ben set his jaw. "Get into Castle Doom and clobber everything that moves."

"Absolutely!" snapped John. "We'll just ignore the fact that there are probably missiles and mines and Doombots just _waiting _for us to throw the first punch. Sure, absolutely, that'll work!"

There was a small smile on Franklin's face. "Actually, it might." He looked at Reed for confirmation.

"Weelll . . . it would be dangerous." Reed began to grin. "But what isn't?"

"What are you thinking?" Sue asked suspiciously.

"Strategy."

Sue threw her hands in the air. "Oh. Right."

Cyclops nodded. "I don't know what this plan is yet, but let's go."

"You lost me," said Torus.

"We're going to rescue Val and David," Franklin said. "NOW."

This was war.

**If you're still with me, then excellent. I'm trying, trying VERY hard to include all the characters while still keeping this coherent.**

**And a question: Should Doom die? Should **_**anyone **_**die? Please post reviews to tell me what you think. This is important.**


	8. Chapter 8: The War

Doom stood in front of the big bay window and looked out over his country, smiling secretly to himself.

Doomstadt lay in ruins. In the streets and vegetable stalls and shop windows, upon the rooftops, and far away, out over the spreading green fields, and high in the air, people fought. The peasants – useless creatures – fled. The army of the Fantastic Four battled the army of Doombots with all their might.

The only problem was that when one of the humans (or mutants, or Skrulls, or Atlanteans, or Inhumans, as the case may be) fell, they stayed fallen. They bled.

When a Doombot fell, it immediately leaped up, repairing itself automatically.

Doom turned to watch young Valeria Richards – age twenty-two – struggling inside the big glass fish tank he'd dropped her into. She'd sealed herself and her tiny nephew in a force field, with just enough air to survive. Meanwhile, dozens of incredibly small, incredibly poisonous fish swam in colorful clouds about them.

One of the little fish slid against the force field, inches from Val's face. Forcing herself to take slow, even breaths, she watched it with wide blue eyes. She gently stroked Baby David's hair and rocked him back and forth.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Doom said to her, gesturing to the carnage outside.

She looked at him with those huge, terrified eyes. It felt almost like it had twenty-two years ago, when he'd first kidnapped her. An innocent baby, the most effective bait Doom knew.

It felt almost like the days when the first Valeria, his queen, had been alive.

"People living or dying at my whim." He turned his back to her and gazed out over the beautiful, beautiful war. "Truly the legacy I always wanted."

He turned to look back on her, and gasped slightly when he saw that she—and the baby—were gone. The fish swam alone in the tank.

Then he laughed. "Of course. Very ingenious, my dear. I might almost be fooled, if not for the fact that I knew you had the power of invisibility."

Wearing a resentful look, Val faded back into existence – baby, force field, and all. She gazed longingly out of the tank.

"I'm afraid I can't let you out just yet, little Valeria," Doom said darkly. "Not until . . ."

He paused, waiting. The only sound in the wide gallery was the distant noise of the fighting.

Then the big bay window shattered. Long slivers of glass bounced off Doom's armor and caught in his cape. He withstood the barrage, unaffected.

With a cry, the heroes came flying through the window. A huge gull flapped and flopped to a landing, and transformed into a Skrull. An X-Man reeled through the air, blood seeping from one feathery white wing. The blue-skinned Atlantean girl next to him caught his hand and steadied him.

The Human Torch and his son, Torus, steadied Reed Richards between them. Sue Richards came after them on a force field, and behind them, Rachel carried Franklin on a pillar of fire. Her eyes had a distant, distracted glow, and a shrill cry came from her lips without ceasing. Franklin held on to her as if, without his touch, she would simply drift away and burn up in a curl of smoke.

Doom glanced at the tank and smirked to see that Val and the baby were gone again. As if she really thought she could fool him!

"Where are my daughter and grandson?" Reed Richards demanded, as the two Torches let him settle onto the ground.

Doom had not seen him for years. Reed looked much older. His hair, once brown with the occasional gray streak, had bleached itself to a pure white.

"Well, now," Doom said casually. "I believe a man might be slightly more polite to his oldest enemy, who happens to be holding some dearly loved hostages."

Everyone froze.

"I'm over here," Val said suddenly.

There were gasps and sighs of relief, as everyone saw that Val was standing on Doom's throne, holding Baby David safely in her arms. She wore a determined expression. On the other side of the room, the top of the fish tank had been pried off, and the little fish swam around as placidly as ever.

"How—" Doom clutched his chest. "No—"

"I used a force field to unlock the hatch," Val said carelessly, tossing her head. "You should really be more careful around geniuses."

Cyclops turned to Doom, a tight smile forming on his face. "It looks like we're done here."

Rachel's constant cry grew slightly higher in pitch. She shook slightly, straining towards her baby son. The fire around her took the shape of a giant bird, reaching for the sky.

"Easy, Rache," Franklin said softly. He tightened his grip on her hand, and led her gently across the dais.

Val sighed in relief. Her arms ached from holding the baby, and she was ready to go home.

Doom began to laugh menacingly.

"What's he so happy about now?" asked Torus Storm, half-growling.

Huge bolts slithered over each and every door, locking them tightly. A panel of thick metal slid out to cover the shattered window. The whole room was like an enormous sealed drum, locking them in.

"You—" Doom rocked back and forth, wiping tears of joy from behind his mask. "You had no idea."

"Oh, joy, the Villainous Monologue," someone groaned.

"Could we PLEASE skip it this time?"

"No," Doom snapped. "Absolutely not. Villains live for this moment!"

One by one the heroes folded their arms over their chests and waited.

"This was a curtain call – to lure you all out of your self-centered, 'normal,' little lives. For all of us to go out in a blaze of glory together, in one last battle!"

Reed and Franklin glanced at each other.

Franklin sighed. "Okay, Doom. Listen. We can help you. There are psychologists—"

Doom ignored him. "There's a bomb. With an unbreakable code. You can't defuse it. You'll all die! YOU'LL ALL DI—"

CRACK!

Doom crumpled into a green-and-gray heap on the tiled floor. Behind him stood a hunched figure, holding one of the Doombot's cannons. It was Vernard. His beady eyes darted back and forth as he stepped forward. He kept his grungy cloak wrapped tightly around him with his free hand.

"Let's start over," he said, in a slow, dangerous voice.

"Who the heck are you?" The Human Torch squinted at him.

"My name is Vernard," he said. "And until approximately two seconds ago, I was Doom's apprentice."

**And so there you are. **


	9. Chapter 9: Secrets Predictably Revealed

"You killed him!" yelped Sue Richards.

Vernard said nothing, only looked down smugly on his master's body.

Down the hall, the main doors strained at the seams and burst open. Shattered Doombots were tossed aside as Ben Grimm strode inside at the head of a huge army. Flanking him were Alyce, Jacob, Danny, Jeremy, and Yancy. A girl in a leotard swung overhead and skittered down the wall on all fours.

"Where's Doom?" roared the Thing.

"He's not moving," said one of the Skrulls.

The Human Torch inched forward and waved a hand back and forth in front of Doom's face. "I think . . . I'm pretty sure he's dead."

"Dead?" The Thing's shoulders slumped. "But . . . I REALLY wanted to whack him a few times . . ."

Jeremy patted him comfortingly on the shoulder with a rocky orange hand. "Aw, it's okay, Dad. There are other people to beat up."

"He said there was a bomb," Val said in her shrill voice.

Sue grimaced. "There isn't enough time to get everyone out safely!"

"You need not worry," Vernard said calmly. "I defused it. I now wish to speak to Reed Richards."

"Here I am," said Reed. He kept a wary eye on the Doombot cannon, which Vernard was still carrying.

"You are the son of Nathaniel Richards? The ONLY son?"

"Why, yes." Reed sounded puzzled.

"Did he ever have any other children?"

"Well—he did remarry," Reed said. "I have a half-sister, as a matter of fact."

"No brothers? Not one?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

Vernard stepped forward, seeming taller every second. He let his green cloak flutter out around him, revealing that he wore a Fantastic Four uniform – an old, faded, light-blue one – beneath it.

"I just thought . . ." he said musingly, "I simply assumed that Nathaniel Richards would have informed SOMEONE of my existence."

"Uh," said Reed.

"Excuse me?" said Sue.

"Time to go," said Val, handing Baby David to his mother. Then, hopping down off the throne, the blond girl vanished.

"Yes," said Vernard. "Nathaniel Richards, the great time traveler, visited Latveria, years ago. He fathered a child – and then he left that child alone, orphaned."

"I don't think I like where this is going," one of the X-Men mumbled, behind her sleeve.

"I am that child," thundered Vernard, throwing out his scrawny chest, "and I have come to claim my BIRTHRIGHT!"

"All right," Sue said politely. "That's nice."

"How exactly do you plan to claim your birthright?" Franklin asked, more warily. He had his arms wrapped firmly around the slowly calming Rachel, and sleepy little David. He glanced down at Doom's motionless body.

"Nathaniel Richards' firstborn," Vernard said, "Reed Richards—you had everything I ever wanted. I will be taking it back now."

"Well, now, let's talk about this," Reed said, stepping forward.

"We _have _talked about it!" snapped Vernard. He pointed the nozzle of the cannon directly at Reed's nose. "And now, I will require something from you. Specifically, the battery from the communicator which you attach to your costume."

There was a brief pause.

"No, I don't think so," Reed said firmly.

Vernard's lips stretched into a thin line.

Suddenly something yanked his arm up in the air, pulling on the cannon. He let go and the cannon shot away from him. Val reappeared right in front of him, staggering under its sudden weight.

Vernard reached out and spun her around, directly into his arms. The cannon was squeezed between them. She fumbled in vain for the trigger.

"Hello, niece," he whispered. A long, twisted knife appeared in his hand, out of nowhere. "Now, tell your father exactly why I need that battery."


	10. Chapter 10: The Inevitable Monologue

"Can't tell him if I don't know," Val gritted between closed teeth. Her face was uncomfortably close to Vernard's knife.

"Then I shall." Vernard turned to face Reed again. Reed, as well as the rest of the army, was petrified. Even the psychics looked helpless. Their powers simply did not work as well around all of Doom's telepathy-blocking machinery.

"I need that battery to power my time machine. In a few short seconds, I will replace you in the past, and your life now will cease to be. _I _will be Mr. Fantastic. _I _will be Nathaniel Richards' favorite son. If you do not aid me to my satisfaction, this girl will die."

"Why are you telling us this?" one of the Skrulls asked.

"I want to see you grovel!" Vernard yelled. "Weep! Beg! I wanted to see the horror of realization spread over your face when you realized that you were helple—"

Several things happened in the next instant.

Completely fed up, Val dropped the cannon on Vernard's feet. He yelped in pain and reeled back, letting go of her.

Reed reached out, stretching to catch his daughter and drag her back towards him.

Everyone rushed Vernard at once, ready to tackle him.

And Kristoff appeared with a *pop*, holding his teleporting remote. He picked up his father's staff and set its end against the nape of Vernard's neck.

"Move and you're dead."

Shoes skidded on the floor as the army halted. Several hapless members of the crowd fell over their own feet, sprawling across the marble floor.

On the ground, Doom moved. He pushed himself onto his knees, stood up haltingly and painfully. Straightening his shoulders with a deep breath, he shook his cape out with a flourish.

Vernard gulped. "You—you're not dead!"

"You dare?" snarled Doom. "You DARE?"

"Okay, Big Fight Scene's over," said Franklin. "Everybody out." The people nearest to the door began to back outside.

"No one is to move!" Doom demanded. "As for you, Vernard – you DARE TO MOCK MY POWER?"

"Move. Move move move," Franklin said, continuing to shoo the army out.

"I SAID no one is to MOVE!" roared Victor von Doom. "Are all the seals broken? Kristoff, reseal the doors."

Kristoff looked at him coolly. "I told you this would not end well."

"Insolent child! You, too, dare—"

"Of course I dare," Kristoff said. "I tire of your arrogance, old man."

A brief silence filled the chamber. Only a few of the Fantastic Four and the X-Men remained.

"Awkward," Val said.

Vernard let out a single barking laugh. "Fools."

He immediately had everyone's attention.


	11. Chapter 11: The SelfDestruct Button

Currently in the Great Hall were Doom, Kristoff, and Vernard, all on the dais.

Before them stood Val, Franklin, Rachel (with Baby David), Cyclops, Mr. Fantastic, the Invisible Woman, the Human Torch, the Thing, and Alyce Grimm. Everyone else had gotten safely outside.

"I am the son of Nathaniel Richards." Vernard cackled. "Did you not think that I would have a backup plan?"

He spun around, grabbed the staff from Kristoff, and pressed one of its buttons. Immediately red lights flared on the ceiling.

"Self-destruct sequence reactivated," chanted computerized speakers all over the room.

Kristoff smacked Vernard sharply on the head with the staff and began inspecting the various buttons.

"Normal perimeters breached. Now activating Force Field of Doom."

Beyond the shattered windows and doors, a glowing-green force field bubbled up.

In Kristoff's hands, the staff shattered. He cried out and staggered back.

Alyce smirked, rubbing her hands together so that sparks flew. "Gotcha."

"I was trying to re-deactivate the self-destruct sequence!" Kristoff yelled.

Alyce hesitated. "Um . . . were we supposed to trust him? Or is he still one of the bad guys?"

There was a brief silence.

"I've got it all written out somewhere," Val said. "Who's a hero and who's a villain and who's alive and who's dead and who's alive again . . ."

"We're _all _about to be dead in about five minutes," snapped Doom. He strode to his throne and flopped down in it with a sigh. Suddenly he looked very old and tired.

Vernard, crumpled on the ground, moaned.

"We'll smash our way out," the Thing said confidently, walking towards the doors.

"Wonderful! Smash everything. Smash as much as you please," Doom said. "It will do no good."

"Wait a minute!" Franklin whirled towards Kristoff. "You have a teleportation device, don't you?"

"The TelePorter will only transport one person," Kristoff said, refusing to look at him.

The speakers chimed. "Four minutes until detonation."

"Get him!"

Everyone sprang towards Kristoff. At the last second, he pulled the TelePorter from behind his back, pressed a button, and vanished.

"Beautiful," the Human Torch murmured. He glanced around for the Thing. "Hey, Ben—how's the smashing coming?"

The Thing walked back, looking depressed. "Force field's . . . uh . . ."

". . . too hard?" the Torch supplied helpfully.

"No! No, not too hard! It's just . . . I, uh . . ." His big orange shoulders slumped. "Okay. I can't break it. It's too hard. Ya happy?"

"I'm gonna try," said Alyce.

"So will I," said Cyclops.

"Three minutes until detonation," chirped the speakers.

"No!" cried the Invisible Woman. "Everyone stay together! Val, help me make a force field."

"That won't help," Doom said bitterly, leaning back in his throne.

So far, Reed Richards had not said a word. Now he stepped away from the group, towards the throne.

"What do you really want, Doom?"

"To see you die."

"Yes, yes, yes." Reed waved this aside impatiently. "But _why_? Everyone else we've fought . . . they're all gone. Why do you insist on dragging this out?"

Doom sighed. "We were always destined to be enemies, Richards."

"Maybe not," Richards said earnestly. "We could have been friends."

"Two minutes until detonation."

"Reed?" Sue quavered.

"But we became enemies," Doom said firmly. "And we've forgotten how to be anything else."

Kristoff popped back into the room with a _snap_. Standing next to him was a woman in black armor and a red cape.

"Hello again, Father."

"One minute until detonation."

"Stop the countdown!" Doom roared.


	12. Chapter 12: Ruin and Delay

"Self-destruct sequence unreactivated." The computerized voice almost sounded disappointed.

"What are you doing here, Vikki?" Doom growled.

The woman in black armor smiled charmingly. Her armor was made of some kind of liquid black metal, flowing with the contours of her face and body. "I go by Ruin now, Father."

"I thought you said the teleportation device only worked on you!" Val said accusingly to Kristoff.

He shrugged. "I lied."

Outside, there was a tremendous BOOM and the great green force field shuddered.

"Our family," the Invisible Woman said, breaking into a smile. "They're coming in after us."

"Get out," Doom snarled at his children. "I am in the middle of my grand exit! My curtain call! I will destroy myself and the Fantastic Four in one fell swoop! YOU'RE INTERRUPTING!"

Ruin's smile turned stiff and wooden. "Oh dear. I feel so unwanted."

"Father, the force field will not withstand the force of the explosion!" Kristoff said, although he was talking so quickly that it sounded more like: "."

"It could shatter, and then Latveria would be worsted," he continued, only slightly slower.

"'Worsted'?" Cyclops mumbled.

Vernard lifted his head off the ground and croaked, "Computer, re-reactivate the countdown!"

"Detonation in—"

"Computer, un-re-reactivate the countdown," Doom said.

""Self-destruct sequence un-re-reactivated."

"Computer, re—" Vernard began, almost in a shriek.

"Computer, delete the self-destruct program from our database," Kristoff said.

"Deleting self-destruct program from our database."

"Thank you," said Val with a sigh. "I swear, if I had to hear the word 're-reactivate' one more time . . ."

Vernard stood up and yelled, "Computer, restore self-destruct program!"

"Error. Program could not be restored."

Vernard let out a high-pitched, nails-on-chalkboard screech, and dove for Kristoff. "I'll kill youuu!"

Doom stood up swiftly and pressed one of those omnipresent buttons on his wrist. A sheet of light shot out from his fingertips, hitting Vernard dead-on.

Vernard tottered, steam issuing from his mouth and nose, and collapsed.

"You killed him!" Rachel screamed, hugging Baby David closer to her. "You really killed him! I felt—I felt him die!"

"He was a traitor," Doom said matter-of-factly. "Now. Back to business."

"The program's been deleted, I'm going home," Ruin said. "Kristoff? TelePorter, please."

Outside, the huge green force field shut down with a deep, tired moan. Everyone who'd been locked out—the rest of the Fantastic family—came rushing back in. The noise exploded through the deep, silent chambers of Castle Doom.

"Your plan didn't work, Victor," Reed said. "We're going home. Leave us alone from now on."

Doom didn't answer.

"Victor?"

Doom slumped from the throne, head lolling to the side like a newborn's.

Reed started to rush to him, but Sue caught him in a force field. "Reed, wait! Don't! Not yet!"

Instead, it was Kristoff who walked over to the fallen body, crouched over it for a moment, and then turned to the crowd. "You may leave. He's dead."

**Aaagain.**

**Hope you're enjoying yourselves as the story begins to wind down.**


	13. Chapter 13: Coronation

Kristoff turned and walked up to the ancient Latverian throne. He sat down. His slim frame, clothed in a tailored suit, looked strangely out of place there.

"I have no wish to fight you," he said to the army before him. "Leave me to bury my dead."

"Says who?" someone—probably one of the Grimms—shouted faintly, far off.

"Are you _sure _he's dead?" Val asked skeptically. "Because ten minutes ago, I would have said—"

Kristoff leaned forward with a strange gleam in his eyes. He looked eerily like his father in that moment.

No one felt like arguing anymore. They began to file out slowly.

Reed stopped in front of the throne. "Von Doom."

Kristoff sighed. "I will not bother your family, Richards—not as long as you leave me to my own devices."

"We will have to interfere if those 'devices' involve conquering or destroying the planet," Reed warned him.

Kristoff smirked. "My Evil Plots tend to be a little more sophisticated than that."

"Very well," Reed said with a shrug. He turned, walked down the dais, took his wife's hand. He stopped and turned around. "I . . . I'm sorry, Kristoff."

He set out after the retreating army.

Rachel and Franklin followed, leaning together over their baby. Val pattered after them. She paused and turned to look at Kristoff. Their eyes met for a moment, and then she continued out.

Kristoff continued sitting on that high throne, staring fixedly ahead, until the huge doors slammed shut far down the gallery.

Ruin waited and watched. Then she cleared her throat. "Kristoff . . ."

"Get out, Vikki," he said, tossing her the TelePorter.

Her gaze hardened. "Have it your way." She pressed the button and was gone.

Kristoff waited a moment, in case she came back.

Then he got up and ran to his father's fallen form. He turned the body over, staring into the glassy eyes behind the mask. He touched the edge of the mask, found the latch, released it. The mask left the rest of the helmet with a soft hiss.

Behind it, metal gleamed. The glassy eyes glistened.

This was not Doom.

Kristoff bit his lip until it bled.

"Again," he muttered to himself, shoving the Doombot away from him. "Again, he chooses to disappear. The coward."

He stood up and walked to the big bay window. His shoes crunched on powdered glass.

Below him, Doomstadt was in ruins.

He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.


	14. Epilogue

For Kristoff, the world officially began the day Victor von Doom died.

That is, if Victor von Doom did, indeed, die.

There were no more attacks on the Fantastic Four. Period. Well, maybe Ruin attacked them once in a while. Kristoff was busy setting up Latveria as a World Power.

Doomstadt was rebuilt. The people of the country thrived, with more food and resources than ever before. And once Kristoff found time to build a few small nuclear warheads, the countries across the border became oddly respectful.

The only thing which bothered him was the mysterious disappearance of Vernard's body, from the vault in which he'd placed it. He chalked it down to Temporary Death, but waiting for proof made him uneasy. He was already waiting for his father to pop up again somewhere or other.

The fact was, Doom had lied. In this world, there _was _no such thing as a "final curtain call." There were curtain calls, again and again—but somehow the main players always returned.

Two years after his father's disappearance, Kristoff stepped out of a plane and onto American soil for the first time in . . . well, a very long time. He arrived at the Latverian embassy – quite musty by now – and looked around. His father's old inventions were everywhere. It looked like the Castle Doom of two years ago.

In one swift movement, he stepped forward and shoved a Doombot down the steps. He turned to push another one.

"Uh."

Val Richards' voice startled him. He whipped around to see her. Behind him, all of the Doombots collapsed like a line of dominoes.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped.

"Um, I have alarms set up here," she said, looking just as baffled as he was. "Which you just set off."

"Why do you have alarms set up at the Latverian Embassy?" Then it hit him. "Oh. Vikki."

"Or Ruin, as the case may be." Val shrugged. "She's shown up here before."

"You will not need to worry about her again." Kristoff sighed. "I am going to try to ally Latveria with the United States again."

"Oh."

"So."

"So."

"How's your nephew?"

"David?" She smiled. "He's doing great. Toddling and everything . . ."

Both of them wavered. The pause stretched out for far too long.

Val drew in a breath. "Well, see you. On—on TV or something."

Her high heels clicked out of the door. The door swung closed.

Kristoff locked the doors and pulled the drapes over the windows. Then he flopped down on the carpet and pulled a sheaf of papers out of his pocket. They crackled and flopped from side to side, wrinkled from their long confinement.

He spread his latest Evil Plot out around him until it covered half the floor. He stood up, and looked down proudly on it.

Robotic Doubles. Crocodile Pits. Labyrinthine Hideouts. Convoluted Plots. The Inevitable Return of his father. Even Val Richards. They were all there—all the pieces, just waiting to be put together.

This was going to be MAGNIFICENTLY Nefarious.

THE END

**Thank you for reading my story. I have thoughts of a sequel, but for right now I'm going to take a welcome break. As for **_**Curtain Call**_**, I had a wonderful time writing it and I hope everyone enjoyed it!**


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